


The Voice

by RottenFruitz



Category: Monster Hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28728789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RottenFruitz/pseuds/RottenFruitz
Summary: A hunter hears a mysterious voice on the wind...
Kudos: 1





	The Voice

The Hunter's armor weighed heavy on his back as he trudged through the thick, muddy marshland. The cold air had finally found a way inside what he thought were his warmest garments, and his hot drinks had worn off and run out a long time ago. It was miserable, but he couldn't let this muck get the better of him. He had to get back to camp.

His palico was waiting for him there; she would get worried soon and he didn't want her trying to make her way through this filth. Especially not in this weather. Hell, if he'd known it would get this bad this fast, he would have packed up his stuff and gone home a long while ago.

The wind howled past the Hunter's ears as it whirled around him. He stopped for a moment to brace himself against a tree as more, stronger winds started to pull and push him. The Hunter was clinging to the tree now, trying to bury his head in his shoulders to block out the cry of the wind. His heart hammered against his ribs. Was this the work of a kushala daora? If he were caught by an elder dragon here…

He stopped that thought there. He could still get back to camp. He just had to take things slow. Once he was reunited with his friend, they could laugh about this later in some hot springs. This would be a good story to tell the fledgling hunters down at the pub, they were easy to impress… 

_ "Hello?" _

A ghostly voice drifted across the wind and past the Hunter's ears; it sounded like a young woman’s.

"Hello? Hi!  _ Please someone… _ "

The Hunter suddenly felt cold. But this cold didn't come from the wind or the weather. This was a deep, primal chill. One that had been built into mankind over the hundreds of years of its existence.

" _ Please someone… _ No!" And then a blood curdling cry cut through the wild, unrelenting wind like a glavenus tail.

Normally, the Hunter would have rushed in to help this mysterious woman, even in these awful conditions. Instead, he cowered. That voice was not the voice of a human, or even a wyverian or felyne. There was something wrong about it in a way that he could not explain, but he knew instinctively that the voice on the wind heralded danger. A deep, visceral horror settled in his chest, and he stumbled away from his tree. Desperate to escape whatever was attempting to speak to him, he dove for a nearby boulder. He opened his journal, took out a pen, and began to scribble. If this thing claimed his life, maybe another hunter might stumble across his writings and save themselves…

_ "Help! Help someone! Someone!" _

The not-human voice drifted steadily closer. The wind kept howling. The Hunter swore he could hear footsteps in the mud. The monster was following his tracks.

He reached for his weapon, tucked his journal by some herbs he knew hunters loved to gather, then stepped away from his cover. His long sword shook in the wind as he held it in front of him. A monster stepped from the mist.

"Hi! Hi!  _ Hi! _ God please  _ no _ !  _ No _ !" the creature kept speaking as it advanced on him. Then it screamed in horror, but the scream died in its throat as if it's ribs had been crushed and torn with powerful teeth.

In that moment, the Hunter understood what this beast was. It was a mimic. It had stolen the voices of those it had killed, and now it was repeating them to him, hoping to lure him in.

As the Hunter started to back away, the slender form of a curious-looking flying bird wyvern appeared in the distance. It looked like a ghost: pale white and covered in scars from monster and hunter alike. It's beak looked familiar, although misshapen and broken. Before he could comprehend what the monster was, it saw him and charged through the mud on quick, muscular legs. The Hunter fought bravely, but he was clumsy in the mud and weak in the cold, and the monster was usually strong. His last breath was used up on a pained, horrified scream that the wind swallowed up before the felyne patiently waiting for him at the camp could hear.

_ But the monster heard it loud and clear. _

Later, as the night grew colder and the campfire grew dim, a young felyne pulled on a warm, furry set of armor as she prepared to head into the marsh. It had been a long while since her friend had returned, and she feared for his safety. As she held her weapon in her paws and set out into the deep mud, a terrified shriek confirmed her suspicions.

Horror gripping her pelt, the young felyne screamed into the darkness, praying her friend was still alive "Hold on! I'm coming!"

Without a second thought, she ran towards the sound.


End file.
